


Experience

by TakeMeOut



Series: Wild [2]
Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, RPF, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2019-01-28 11:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12605316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakeMeOut/pseuds/TakeMeOut
Summary: Even after all this time, Peter's still not sure about his place in the world, and he's not the only one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part of the Wild series, so it'll make a lot more sense if you read part one first.

For Jenna, the read-through was one of the best parts of the filming process: meeting the new actors, and seeing the script come to life as the ideas behind the episode began to take shape. Steven collared her before she went into the read-through room to introduce Emma, a new face for this episode, who appeared to be quite a bit younger than Jenna. 

Emma’s friendly face broke into a broad smile as she took Jenna’s hand in both of hers, and greeted her enthusiastically. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

Peter was already in his chair rifling through a ream of papers, when the familiar sense of a nearby Vankar turned his head. He leapt to his feet, his eyebrows shooting up in astonishment as he saw who Jenna was chatting to. “Emma! Good God.”

She grinned at him, and reached out to accept his engulfing hug. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Jenna glanced between them, intrigued. “How do you two know each other?”

Emma’s smile lit up her face underneath a choppy mop of short, dark brown hair. “Peter was one of my teachers when I was at school.” 

Jenna blinked at Peter. “I never knew you’d been a teacher.”

“Well, not in the sense you’re thinking of. But most older Vankar do a stint at teaching at some point; the next generation has to learn how to handle a sword from someone.” He pursed his lips and his eyes crinkled as he looked back towards Emma. “Since when have you been an actor, anyway?”

She was about to answer when Steven called for everyone’s attention, and she mouthed: “Later. Let’s go hunting.” He nodded, a pleased smile quirking his mouth sideways, and took his seat. 

\---------------------------

It was a warm night for hunting, and it was past two in the morning when Peter suggested taking a break. Emma landed on the flat roof of an office block first, folded her wings away and spreadeagled herself on her back to look at the stars. 

Peter produced two beers, apparently from nowhere, and handed her one. “So, how did you get into acting, then?” 

Emma shrugged. “Same way as anyone. Drama school, bit parts and a whole host of shitty jobs. I don’t think I’ve been as focused as I should’ve been, which probably explains why I haven’t got very far. Before now, at least.” She sat up to take a swig of her beer, and exhaled, looking pensive. “It doesn’t feel like a terribly important thing to be doing right now, if I’m honest.”

Peter watched her intently. “What’s up?” 

Emma brushed her fringe out of her eyes impatiently, and sighed. “I’ve been called before the Council,” she said flatly. “Getting involved where I shouldn’t have.”

“What happened?”

She rested her forearms on her knees, and looked out towards the horizon. “I was on foot in Camden late one night, near the canal. I could hear someone shouting, so I went to have a look.” She took another drink. “There was a man and a woman - well; I won’t go into detail, but she’s in a mess, and he’s obviously trying to rape her. So I stepped in.” 

Peter waited as Emma finished the bottle of beer in a series of rapid gulps. “Anyway. She legs it, and he’s yelling at me as I’m calling the police, and says I can’t prove anything, that she's his girlfriend and he’ll make her back him up and say I’m lying. And I realise he’s right.” 

There was a silence. “So you took matters into your own hands?”

She nodded abruptly, and Peter sighed, choosing his words carefully. “Listen. I’ve been there. And I’ve been up before the Council for it too. So I get it, I really do.”

She interrupted him before he could continue. “I know the rules. I KNOW that’s not what we’re here for. That it’s not our job to meddle in human affairs. But, Jesus, to just stand by …” She tailed off and shook her head. 

“There’s a difference between not standing by and handing out justice, you know.”

She raised her eyebrows and nodded in reluctant acceptance. “I should’ve just stopped him. I guess I would've got away with that, in such a clear-cut case. But honestly …” 

“I know. Some of the shit you see in this world - the injustice - and we can’t do anything about it. Or at least, we mustn’t do anything about it.”

“Not our responsibility. Yeah, I get it. Look, let’s get back to it; there must be some Morbia around here somewhere. A night of explicit violence will cheer me up.” He grinned in response, and followed her wild flight up into the dark sky. 

\---------------------------

On the first day of filming, Jenna and Emma were sitting to the side of the set, watching one of the special effects team adjust Peter’s prosthetic fingers. The idea of writing the missing part of his hand into the script had been mooted, and then dismissed as being too scary for the kids. 

Emma tilted her head to the side, evaluating him. “He’s fucking gorgeous, isn’t he?”

Jenna blinked at the sudden change of topic; a moment before, Emma had been questioning Jenna about her career plans. “Well, he has a certain something.” She smiled. “Bit old for you, though, isn’t he?”

Emma snorted genially. “Not really an issue for our lot, to be honest. He’s survived to this age on his wits and his sword - and sometimes just his fists, if the stories they tell about him are true. That's pretty damned attractive from where I'm standing.” She grinned mischievously. “And imagine how good he'd be in bed with all that experience.”


	2. Chapter 2

As the sun set, Peter drifted down through the darkening sky to perch on the very edge of the roof of a block of flats. Folding his wings carefully, he closed his eyes against the orange light and cast his senses widely over the city, trying to pinpoint the unique signature that indicated the presence of Morbia. Instead, he became aware of the approach of another Vankar, white-grey wings bright against the sunset. 

As the individual came closer, he recognised the tall figure of Gwen, the head of the Vankar Council. She landed lightly beside him on the ledge, flicked her long, salt-and-pepper plait over her shoulder, and grasped his hand in greeting. 

“Peter. It’s been a while.”

“It has. And it’s good to see you. How are you?”

“I’m well. And you? Is the hand causing you any problems?” She nodded towards the livid scar that truncated the knuckles on his left hand. 

Peter shrugged casually, his mouth quirking sideways. “No, it’s fine. Who needs fingers? I’ve still got a couple, anyway.” He paused, becoming serious again. “I’ve been meaning to say. That was a good send-off we gave Claire; she would've loved it.”

Her kind, lined face broke into a small smile. “She earned it. The sacrifice she made ...” 

He nodded soberly. “There’s no way I would’ve got Jenna out alive without her.”

“A good death.” She looked sideways at him. “Does Jenna know what happened?”

“She knows Claire died on the moors. I told her later, once it was all over. I didn’t tell her exactly when, or how.”

They sat quietly for a while, both lost in their thoughts. Eventually, Peter broke the silence. “You’re here because of Emma, I take it?” 

Gwen nodded, raising her eyebrows as if daring him to challenge her. “You’ve got an opinion on that, I imagine.”

He laughed briefly. “You’ve known me too long, Gwen. But you don’t need to lecture me; I do get it, you know. It’s just - she’s so young. Do you really need to do this?”

Gwen’s tone was both caustic and amused. “Remind me how old you were the first time you were called before the Council? And the second?”

He huffed good-naturedly in acknowledgement of her point, and Gwen went on. “Anyway, Emma knows how to handle herself. You know how old she was when she took down her first Morbia? She’s quite something, and she’ll be a valuable teacher one day. But we’re worried about her self-control, and she has to understand it’s a problem, and deal with it.” 

She shook her head slightly. “You should’ve seen the state of the man she beat up. There’ll be no lasting damage, which was obviously carefully calculated on her part, but he was still a mess.” 

“So she does have some self-control, then, otherwise it could’ve been a different story.”

Gwen conceded the point with a tilt of her head, and changed the subject. “We really could do with your experience on the Council these days, you know.”

Peter didn’t reply, and she put her hand on his shoulder. “You OK?”

He smiled wryly, nodding. “Yeah, I am. What’s next is a question that’s been on my mind quite a lot recently. I don’t know if I’m the right person for the Council, though. What was it you said a while ago about my wisdom, or lack of it?” 

Gwen snorted. “That was years ago. You might not realise it, Peter, but you’ve changed.” She stood up to leave, and gave him a penetrating look. “Time to think about a new direction, perhaps.” She squeezed his hand in her strong grip, unfurled her wings, and flung herself off the ledge. 

\---------------------------

In the empty storage room Peter sometimes used for training when he was on set, Emma stripped off her jumper and shoes and threw them into a corner. She picked up a blunt training sword and threw another across to Peter. 

She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, hefting her sword in one hand, and Peter grinned mischievously at her. “They say you've learned a few things since you left school. Let's see what you've got, then.”

Even by his standards she moved fast, accelerating towards him with a perfect balance of power and stability, and the impact when he parried her blow was considerable. 

Peter’s long experience gave him the upper hand for a while as they traded impossibly fast blows. But after a while she spun her sword upside down and made a move so unexpected it caught him entirely off guard: the hilt of her sword thudded into the underside of his jaw with huge force and he fell backwards. Instead of flipping away as he'd expected her to, she grabbed his shoulders and fell with him, flinging her sword away as he lost his grip on his own weapon. 

Even before they'd hit the floor she was kissing him, pushing her tongue into his mouth as he kissed her back. Within seconds, fingers were pulling urgently at hair and buttons and zips, and she slipped her hand inside his jeans to rub against his already-hard cock as he breathed hard into her mouth. As the burgeoning mental link between them began to form, he had to concede that not only had she indeed learned some interesting new moves, he was also finding that fact extremely attractive.


	3. Chapter 3

In the storage room, Jenna was running through some lines for the next day with Peter and Emma, when the door opened and she turned to see two women and three men entering, their faces set and grim. Peter abruptly grabbed Jenna by the elbow and propelled her towards the other door. “Sorry, Jenna. You've got to go, quickly.”

“What? What’s going on?” 

“I’ll explain later, but you can’t be here. Quick.” He shut the door against her protests, and returned quietly to stand against the wall a little way from where the members of the Council were talking to Emma. 

Gwen’s face was impassive. “Do you accept the judgement?” 

Emma nodded. “Willingly, without fear or ill will.” She paused, and looked Gwen in the eye. “I might not like the rules about intervention in human matters, but I do understand. And I accept them.” Gwen took Emma’s face in her hands, kissed her once on the forehead, and they smiled briefly at each other before Gwen stepped back.

Emma linked her arms firmly behind her back, baring her throat, and Peter folded his arms grimly across his chest as he watched the first blow make contact with Emma’s jaw. 

\---------------------------

Jenna hovered anxiously outside the room, and when the Council had left she slipped back inside. Emma sat slumped on the floor, her face bloodied, with Peter crouching over her. 

Jenna looked horrified. “Are you OK? What the hell happened to you?”

Emma spat a mouthful of blood into her hand. “I’m fine.”

“But what happened? Who did this?”

Emma raised her eyebrows wearily at Peter, and he stood to look at Jenna, choosing his words carefully. “That was the Vankar Council. They were here because - there are times when … when it’s necessary to test our people’s self-control. And to remind them where the limits of their responsibilities lie.”

“They did this?” Peter nodded once, and Jenna bit her lip. “But that’s … that’s just brutal! And why? Why would they do that? Surely you can't just stand by and accept it?”

The look in Peter’s intense blue-grey eyes made her take a step backwards. “You have to remember that we don’t work like humans, Jenna.” 

He helped Emma to her feet, and she held on to his arm for balance, looking at Jenna with a strange kind of compassion. “I know what it looks like. But we’re dealing with violence and death every day, so discipline and control are everything. Lose that, and lives are put in danger. I made a mistake … a lapse of judgement.” 

She coughed wetly, and wiped her mouth again. “I had to prove I do have that self-control, by taking the consequences and accepting the Council’s judgement, without defending myself, or fighting back. It’s just how it is.”

Jenna opened her mouth to speak again, but Peter interrupted her gently, putting one hand on her arm. “I have to see to Emma now, but I promise you she’ll be OK, and we’ll see you in the morning.” 

\---------------------------

Peter supported Emma with one arm as he opened the door to his flat with the other hand. Depositing her gently on the sofa, he said, “Stay there. I'm going to run you a bath.” 

She smiled ruefully. “I'll try not to bleed on the cushions.” 

He cast an appraising eye over her. “Makeup are going to be furious. They're going to have their work cut out.”

When the bath was ready, he carefully helped her undress, and she heaved a tired sigh as she settled back into the warm water. Once he'd gently washed the blood away, she took hold of his hand and ran it down her wet form, sliding her legs apart. “How about you put those remaining fingers to good use?” His eyes creased in amusement, and he slipped his fingers in between her legs as she sighed again and let her head roll back, shutting her eyes in satisfaction. 

After a few minutes, his fingers stilled. “Come on - let's go to bed. Let me take some of that pain away.”

She hesitated for a second, and he raised his eyebrows at her. “Stop being so bloody independent. What's the point in having the bond if you're not prepared to let it help you? Just let someone be kind to you, and accept it.”

She breathed out quickly. “OK, OK. I concede defeat.” 

He gently towelled her dry, and helped her onto the bed. Quickly undressing, he moved himself carefully over her battered body, and fixed her with a mock-stern look that did a poor job of disguising the affection and humour underneath. 

“For once, do as you're fucking told, and just lie still and let me help you start healing up. Think you can do that?” She smiled wryly in reply, and kissed him, running her tongue over his teeth. 

As he moved slowly inside her, Peter unfurled his wings and let them rest protectively on the bed around her. She reached out to touch the soft feathers near his shoulder blades, and when she came she buried her face in the dark plumage to smell the faint, metallic scent of blood. 

Emma woke in the night to find that Peter was lying on his front with his wing over her, and his long flight feathers had drifted between the top of her legs. It was such an extraordinarily intimate position that despite her exhaustion, she reached out in need to him through their mental link before slipping briefly back into sleep. 

When she woke again a few moments later, he was pushing gently into her from behind, kissing languidly along the side of her neck with his warm, thin lips. “Go back to sleep if you need to,” he murmured into her shoulder. “Let me do the work.” He slipped one arm under her head and ran the fingers of his other hand down to move expertly between her legs. She groaned faintly with pleasure and let her eyes roll shut again, feeling her body begin to mend itself as sleep claimed her again.


	4. Chapter 4

Emma woke in the morning to the sound of the shower running in the next room. She stretched experimentally, feeling how dramatically the pain in her body had been reduced, and slipped out of bed. Leaning against the doorframe, she watched appreciatively as Peter closed his eyes and tilted his head back in the warm water, power emanating from his lean body. 

Eventually Peter spotted her and smiled, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel round his waist. “Morning.” He took her chin in one hand, and nodded slightly as he turned her face from side to side. “You’re looking better.”

She hummed in agreement, and reached up to run her fingers through his damp grey curls, kissing him lingeringly and lazily as he wrapped his arms round her warm body. 

Emma pulled him back onto the bed and swung herself astride him. Peter slid his palms up onto her thighs and she walked her fingers up his forearms, watching him evaluatively. One corner of his mouth quirked. “What’s on your mind?” 

Emma blushed unexpectedly. “Just thinking.” She laughed at herself. “It’s just ... you can see the experience in your body. All the years of training. The control you have.” Peter was laughing openly now, and she swatted him across the chest in protest. “Oi. Stop it. It’s hot.”

Peter smiled broadly at her, his eyes crinkling as his apology echoed around her mind. “Sorry.” She rolled her hips across the towel still wrapped around him, and his breath caught slightly, his grin becoming mischievous. “Go on then. Show me just how hot it is.”

\---------------------------

Filming had wrapped on the episode and some of the cast and crew were going for drinks. Jenna wandered in search of Peter to ask if he was coming, and found him sitting outside the studio with a polystyrene cup of tea, feet propped up on a carton and a pensive look in his eye. He looked round and smiled warmly at her as she approached. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She smiled back, and sat in the chair next to him. “You coming for a drink?”

Peter took a sip of tea. “Yeah. In a bit.”

Jenna peered at him. “You look like you’re thinking.”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah. Just … y’know. What’s next, and that kind of thing.” Jenna waited, and he raised his expressive eyebrows at her. “It’s not going to be the same without you, you know.”

Jenna sighed with a hint of sadness. “You sound like you’ve made a decision.”

Peter nodded reluctantly. “One more series after you go. Then that’s it.”

“And then what?”

Peter was quiet for a bit, drinking his tea and staring into the distance. “Time for something different, I think. Emma’s been asked to start teaching at one of our big schools in the Himalayas. I’ll probably join her for a while. Just for a couple of months, until we’re sure she’s on the straight and narrow.” He hunched his shoulders briefly. “She’ll be a fantastic teacher, but …” He breathed out with an amused huff. “Let’s just say she reminds me of me when I was her age.” 

Jenna raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Bit hot-headed,” he explained. “Could do with an eye being kept on her for a bit.”

Jenna was amused. “I can’t imagine you being a hot-headed youngster.”

Peter laughed. “Mmm. I’d already been up before the Council twice by the time I was her age.”

“And after that? What’s next, if you’re only going for a couple of months?”

“Don’t know. But I’ve been asked to join the Council.” He broke into a smile. “They seem to think I have some wisdom to impart. Which must mean I’m getting old.”

“And? What do you think?”

Peter finished his tea and tossed his cup into a nearby bin. “Maybe. Maybe it’s time for a new direction.” He stood. “You go on to the pub; I’ll join you in a bit.” He watched until she’d left, then he retrieved his sword from under the chair, unfurled his wings and powered into the darkening sky, banking and turning nimbly with the skill born of long experience.


End file.
